


Under The Sea

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [8]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Sex, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Belly Rubs, Come play, M/M, Monsters, Multi, Non-Human Genitalia, Ocean, Ocean Sex, Oral Sex, Secret Crush, Snowballing, Water, Water Sex, Werewolf!Demoman, merfolk, merman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armed with a magical summoning conch, Sniper sets off into gulf-coast waters to seek out and have himself a lurid encounter with one of the denizens of the deep.  Demoman, accompanying the assassin, thinks the entire affair is sheer foolishness, well-wary of those that dwell in the water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under The Sea

It was hot. Cloyingly so, and the humidity only exacerbated things, though the salt air of the gulf coast did much to push the hot air around to create a slightly less offensive sensation of moving, thick, moist, hot air, rather than standing, thick, moist, hot air. It did little to comfort Demoman, who had just finished dropping anchor and was now watching as Sniper dug through a duffel bag he'd brought with him.

The Australian was naked, save for the necklace he'd taken to wearing: a leather thong with a large, rune-laden fang hanging from it. That, and an excited grin as he checked his preparations. He had a small box of sexual props just in case. Dental dams, condoms, lubricant, a wide assortment. Demoman's eyelander and Ullapool caber sat hooked into place against the starboard gunwale, just in case of emergency. Stepping out onto the motorboat's transom, he checked the platform attached at its end, a chunk of plastic with a few holes to let water splash through, attached for a place to climb on and off of when swimming. For Sniper, it was a good common ground between himself and his quarry.

“This is bloody barmy,” Demoman groused, tugging his t-shirt over his head and bundling the cloth together to wipe off his brow. “Creatures o' the deep are not tae be trifled with.”

“Aw, it's not so bad,” Sniper dismissed, stepping back onto the deck and eyeing up his friend as he moved, watching muscle under dark, sweaty flesh. He couldn't help but imagine that with that eyepatch, Demoman was a pirate in another life. Certainly the most attractive man ever to scourge the seas. With a chuckle, he reached up a hand to pet at the tight, dark curls that ran in a loose line down his belly. “'Sides, I never said you had to come with me on this. You're here of your own free will, mate.” He sat down on the row of port-side seats, scratching at Demoman's belly, rubbing in gentle circles and watching as the grumpy Scot deflated.

“Aye, aye,” he sighed, sinking to the seat beside Sniper. His eye fluttered shut, and he quietly wished the bushman would never move his hand away. The gentle, scratchy tummy rub quickly calmed the turbulent seas of his frustrated heart. He leaned against the nude Australian, a smile crossing his lips, peaceful and content to curl up against Sniper and bathe in his attention.

“There's a good boy,” Sniper teased, grinning wide as Demoman crashed back into reality, suddenly very aware of what Sniper was doing to him.

“Ach, oi! Quit that, ye vile tempter!”

“You love it.”

“It's nae the point! I'm nae some wee doggy for ye tae bring tae heel with belly rubs and treats!”

“You're saying you don't want belly rubs and treats?”

Demoman huffed, crossing his arms. “Everyone wants belly rubs and treats ye daft prick.”

With a laugh, Sniper tugged Demoman in for a hug and kissed his cheek. “Right, well you've got your belly rubs. How about I get to be your treat, then?”

“I dunnae want some fish's sloppy seconds,” the bomber groused with a smirk, setting both men to chuckles.

“Not a thing about you isn't sloppy, you drunken sheepdog.” Sniper laughed, tugging a conch shell from his duffel. It was a soft pink-white, glinting in the hot, mid-day sun. Carved painstakingly into its surface were swirling patterns of tiny magical runes, each inlaid with alchemical adamant. It pulsed warmly in his hand, like a distant heartbeat, the thrumming of strong magics impregnating the tool with potential.

“I'm like tae use ye as a chew toy if ye keep it up, ye squint-eyed scarecrow,” Demoman laughed, eyeing up the conch. “So that's it, aye?”

“Yeh, a summoning horn of the merfolk. They use several different sorts, with different enchantments. Each sort plays a different note, casts a different compulsion spell to draw the ones who 'ear it. Some for war, some for help, some for warnings of danger.”

“And this one?”

“Single white male seeks single merman for semi-anonymous cross-species sex acts,” Sniper joked, not looking up from his examination of the conch.

“Likes long swims by the beach, sunsets, and taking it in the arse from monsters. No freaks,” Demoman finished with a laugh.

Sniper stood, earning an appraising glance from the seated werewolf. He was all long, rangy limbs and tan lines, adorned along his front in a dark, soft, straight coating of hair leading from his fuzzy chest down to his groin. He didn't have much of an ass, but what was there was enough to grab comfortably. Certainly it was enough for the Scottish bomber to appreciate, particularly when he found parts of himself slipping between the cheeks to make the bushman gasp and whimper. Bringing the conch to his lips, Sniper took a deep breath and blew.

The note rang out resonant and low, like a foghorn with a chest cold. Rings of blue and pink ebbed through the air, motes of light in magic's wake, rippling into nothingness like the wake of a pebble being dropped into a still pond. Both men could feel the note rattling through them, making their innards slosh and their tongues vibrate in their mouths. The urge to blink was strong, the moisture in their very eyes quivering with the sound.

Echoes crashed off of each wave, sounding out across the endless distance beyond, out to sea and back the several miles toward the little lagoon where they'd left the van and hitch, and shoved off on this lurid endeavour. Demoman and Sniper were silent, listening, looking over the sides of the boat to watch the water for any movement. It was Demoman, leaning over the port side, who spotted the shadow first. “Oi, mate!”

Sniper rushed to Demoman's side, looking out over the water as a dark shape moved just below the surface. Slowing to a halt a good three meters away, the figure crested the water, revealing the handsome face of a merman, blinking black, moist eyes quizzically in the bright sun.

His black hair hung in loose, limp curls, weighted by permanent waterlogging. His ears, webbed along the lobes, poked out between a few locks, giving him a youthful look with his hair half in his face. He brushed it aside, his dark, almond-shaped eyes, entirely black and shining with moisture, scanning the two men gazing after him. His face was heart-shaped, with high cheekbones and a slight, pretty chin and jaw. His sienna skin shone with moisture, tapering into a cool, green tint from his elbow to his fingertips. A fin, pine in colour and nearly translucent, ridged the outer side of his forearm, and his fingers were webbed with the same.

“Oi,” Sniper called, waving. “G'day!”

The merman blinked for a moment before processing what language he was speaking, then smiled broadly. “Are you the one who called for a... coupling?” he asked, unsure what the parlance was amongst land-dwellers these days. All he knew was that he'd heard a call for a man, from a man, and counted himself fortunate to have been within range of the conch, if a little surprised to hear it blown from the surface.

“Yeh, that'd be me, mate. Name's Mundy,” Sniper greeted, as friendly and outgoing as he could muster. Trying to court a creature who required good interpersonal skills with strangers was always a trial for the somewhat awkward assassin.

“Oh, greetings!” the merman called, swimming closer. As he skimmed the surface, his tail finally breached the water with a gentle splash, revealing a long, flowing tail of blue-green scales that tapered into warm brown at his hips, with webbed, semi-translucent fins. When he came to stop he was beside the boat, close enough to touch his caller. “I am called Lailann,” he continued, his voice gentle and warm as the salt breeze that tugged gently at Sniper's hair. He turned to Demoman, expectantly, smiling. His teeth were sharp, but not long. He would have been the picture of disarming beauty were it not for that bear-trap of a mouth.

“Eh, er, Tavish,” the bomber mumbled, taken aback. Sniper was mad. Utterly mad. What in the nine hells was he thinking?

“Pleasure,” Lailann replied, turning back to Sniper, who held the conch. “So, that offer, is that open for anyone, or...?”

“First come, first serve,” Sniper replied with a slight chuckle, setting the conch down. “You're sure?”

“Are you joking with me? I have never been with a human sexually, before. In fact, you two are only the fourth and fifth humans I have ever been in contact with, respectively. It is an exciting prospect! I want to, very much so!” Lailann explained exuberantly, studying both men and the anatomy they displayed. “Humans have so much hair, in so many places,” he marveled, reaching out of the water to pet at the line of hair traveling down Sniper's belly, watching it mat down beneath his wet touch.

“Well allow me to give you a first-hand anatomy lesson.” Sniper nodded over to the stern of the boat and made his way over, stepping out and onto the platform affixed to it. He sat down, letting his legs dangle in the water.

Lailann quickly followed him over, taking a moment to caress his legs and feet, taking in the strange shapes and fuzzy textures with wonder. Finally, his hands traced their way up his thighs, and as his fingers brushed against Sniper's cock, he realized what he was looking at. “Is this... is this your penis?” he asked, running a finger from base to head and watching as it began to stir and stiffen.

“Yeh,” Sniper breathed, trying hard not to grab the pretty merman and grope at him in return. Not yet, at least. “Below it are my testicles. It's where I produce sperm,” he explained, knowing mermen lacked the same equipment.

“Wow. Do they do anything else?”

“Well, they feel good if you touch 'em. Or lick 'em,” Sniper shrugged.

“Oh wait, licking? So humans do oral sex too?”

“Yeh, mermen do too?”

“Oh yeah, it is essentially the main way we can do anything recreationally without someone getting their eggs fertilized. I mean, men can engage in frottage, but it is somewhat difficult unless you find a shallow pool or something to do it in. And, of course, hands, but...” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Makes sense,” Sniper nodded, growing harder as Lailann continued to touch him, running fingers along his length and tracing shapes completely alien to him.

“So would you like me to--”

“God yes,” the bushman gasped, and was quickly rewarded. Lailann tugged Sniper into the water, leaving him to clutch at the platform, and sank below the surface. Webbed hands traced along Sniper's torso, fingertips trailing through his chest and belly hair as it danced with the waves, his cheek pressing to where it puffed up along his sternum. Lailann nosed down his belly, mouthing at the fuzz there as he followed it down to his now-hard cock.

Demoman watched curiously, ready to grab the gunman's arm and haul him onto the deck at a moment's notice, muscles coiled to pounce. His eye shot open as Sniper's face contorted in pleasure, his brows furrowing, eyes closing, and mouth dropping open as he scrunched his nose up. Demoman knew that face well, watching Sniper clutch at the boat tightly with one hand, his other slipping beneath the water to tousle Lailann's hair. When the bushman's breath returned, his groans began, soft and short and lost in pleasure.

The merman's lips wrapped tightly around Sniper, his cool tongue caressing him eagerly. He searched out every ridge, every shape, every interesting texture and form of the cock in his mouth, careful to keep his teeth away and lavish him with attention. He probed beneath Sniper's foreskin, growing more energetic as it rolled back the rest of the way, and laved over the crown, delighting in the heavy groans he could hear in the water, thrumming out of the human's chest and telling him he was doing well. Sniper tasted so different, of warmth and musk and barely at all of salt, once he held his breath and the sea water had left his mouth, swallowed away and exhaled through his gills to be replaced only by saliva. He created no mucous of his own, and did not move or thrash between his lips, simply throbbing with his pulse, engorged with blood and hot against his tongue. So strange and intriguing, novel and at once perverse in its alienness. Lailann remembered the fleshy sack that hang below it, and pulled away, letting his tongue snake out to hazard a lick of the wrinkled skin, drawn tight to Sniper's body in the cold of the ocean. He was rewarded by the bushman's legs tensing, a choked gasp escaping up from his chest, making the water slosh a little in his wake as he flinched. A toothy grin followed, thankfully hidden from the mercenary's view by the dark waters, and Lailann set to work, one hand tugging at the human's cock as he lapped and sucked at his balls, clamping his mouth around them and laving his tongue over them.

“Christ!” Sniper gasped, his head falling back to bonk gently against the boat, his breath coming heavier and faster. Heat welled in his groin, chased and tugged at by the cold of the ocean lapping against him, and by the cold, inhuman tongue doing the same. His body stiffened muscles growing taut as he neared release.

Not yet.

He tugged gently at Lailann's curls, summoning him from the depths to breach the surface with a sharp-toothed smile.

“You called?”

“That's--” Sniper panted, trying to regain his sense, “I'm too close. Don't want to come yet. Just a little longer.”

Lailann eyed him for a moment, studying the blush across his cheeks and his wide-blown pupils. “Alright”, he acquiesced, sinking back down with another grin.

Demoman thought that grin was absolutely terrifying.

Sniper didn't care as he felt lips wrap back around his cock, and slide down, taking more, letting him slip into Lailann's throat. He shuddered, his eyes flicking over to Demoman, who watched his face intently, a mixture of concern and fondness written in plain text across his handsome features.

Lailann's lips met the root of Sniper's cock, his nose buried in his pubic hair, tickling through it as the water made it dance. His throat, like the rest of him, was cool to the touch, contrasting with the fierce heat of Sniper's engorged flesh. He tried to concentrate, to appreciate every sensation, every feeling, both new and familiar. Lailann's throat fluttered around him, expanding and contracting with each breath through the gills that lined his neck. It tickled as those gills opened and closed, cold water rushing in through his sinuses and out across his gills, water sliding past him and creating a strange suction between each exhaling breath. He shivered, the temperature changes and tickle of his throat's workings sending a wriggling, squirming feeling through him to creep up his spine in the most delicious way.

Pulling back a bit and drawing Sniper back out into his mouth, Lailann let one hand drift to the human's balls, rubbing gently at them with his knuckle, shrunken against his body for warmth as they were. His tongue held pressure against his frenulum as it began to undulate, making the tense mercenary begin to quake. He was close again, and this time, Lailann would not be deterred.

Sniper gripped the platform tightly, his forehead dipping to meet the plastic. His groans grew high and strained, his shoulders shaking as he grew closer.

Demoman watched intently, trying to ignore the reason for his whimpers of pleasure, content to watch him shudder and moan and let himself look forward to causing all sorts of similar reactions once they were back on dry land an in the confines of the bushman's cramped van.

With a choked groan, Sniper went stiff, flooding Lailann's mouth with his seed. He went slack, sagging against the plastic platform as those lips left him, heat draining away from his cock as cold water rushed against it. The merman surfaced, smiling with his lips closed, and wrapped his arms around the assassin, drawing his face up. Their lips met, and Lailann drew Sniper's mouth open, tongue snaking out to tangle with the other's, a familiar taste and texture filling the bushman's senses.

His come was still in Lailann's mouth, and now it was in his own, sloshing with their saliva as they kissed. He moaned into the merman's mouth, tasting himself along with his mythical partner, reveling in the act and wrapping his legs around Lailann's scaly hips. One arm held the platform while the other held the back of the merman's head, and he growled into their kiss.

Demoman's lip curled up at the display. He could stand Sniper fucking all manner of beasts. That was his nature. But seeing him kiss them, that always brought his hackles to rise. A soft growl rose in his throat, and it took all of his will to tamp it back down. Instead, he looked away, digging in the duffel for the scrumpy he'd packed.

Something lukewarm began to poke at Sniper, rubbing at his thighs and tangling with his softening cock. It wasn't quite a limb, not quite a tentacle, but something eerily similar, and slimy-slick. He broke their kiss in surprise, looking down quizzically in spite of the water obscuring his sight. He caught the barest flicker of something pink-brown peeking up between their bellies.

“Sorry, I am a little excited as well,” Lailann explained, a bit embarrassed. Just as he'd never seen a human's equipment, it stood to reason Sniper had a similar lack of experience.

“It's movin',” Sniper observed, more than a little excited at the prospect. “It's prehensile?”

“Yes,” Lailann admitted with a shrug. “I was surprised to find yours wasn't. It made sucking on it easier, I must say.”

“So, er, how do you want me, then? I can't 'old my breath that long.”

“Well, I suppose hands will have to do,” Lailann shrugged, a little disappointed.

“Well what about my arse?”

The merman cocked his head to the side quizzically, his tongue peeking out to swipe at a stray drop of come on his lip.

“Oh, right. Different anatomy,” Sniper quickly rejoined, realizing his mistake. “My arse is,” he guided one of Lailann's hands down to the body part in question to rest on a cheek, “between here. It's the hole where my solid waste goes out of.”

“Like a cloaca?”

“Sort of, but it's only supposed to be for one thing. Except it feels bloody brilliant when used for sex.”

“It feels good?” Lailann asked, surprised. “I feel a bit jealous,” he joked.

“Yeh. Want to try?”

“Please!”

“Will you be okay sittin' on this platform for it?”  
“So long as I am not out for several hours, I should be fine,” Lailann assured Sniper, dipping down to take a deep breath of water first. “I can breathe air, but not for very long, or I will suffocate.” The merman tugged himself out of the water, onto the platform. He leaned up onto the wall of the ship's transom, perched at an angle and letting his fin drag in the waves.

His scales shone in the sun, deep hues of blue and green shimmering as the light dragged its way across them. Peeking out of a slit at the front of his hips, Lailann's cock extended, pinkish-brown in hue and a bit longer than Sniper's own. It was wide at the base, thick down most of its length until quickly tapering to a point at its tip, where it opened in a small slit. The merman slid a hand down his belly to grasp at himself, tugging gently, slowly, as he watched Sniper inspect it. The member began to curl about his hand, wrapping and clinging to it and curling around his thumb.

Sniper's eyebrows danced somewhere near his hairline, completely surprised and intrigued by the merman's inhuman anatomy. With no small amount of perverse excitement, he wrenched himself out of the water and onto the platform to kneel beside Lailann. He looked to Demoman with an eager smile, and the bomber tried not to look too cross, setting down the unopened bottle of rotgut in his hand.

“Aye?”

“Pass me the lube, mate.”

With a sigh like he'd been called upon to solve the whole world's problems, Demoman rifled through Sniper's sex-prep box and tossed him the bottle of lubricant he'd brought, leaning on the gunwale to watch what he knew was next. This was a good show, no matter the circumstances.

Sniper squeezed some of the slick liquid onto his fingers, and set to work, reaching back to press at his own entrance, tossing a smile to Lailann. “Just be a sec, mate. Gotta open up, first.”

Lailann watched with interest as Sniper pressed a finger into himself, probing around and wiggling it to relax his muscles, soon joining it with a second. Such strange bodies, these humans had, requiring temperature control mechanics built into their reproductive organs, and having to coax open holes not designed for sexual intercourse for the exact purpose of such, because a hole with a different function still feels good for other ones. He couldn't help but enjoy the sight, however, seeing Sniper panting and shaking as he scissored his fingers inside of himself.

Sniper washed his fingers off in the water and tossed the lube back to Demoman, deeming the slick slime coating the merman's cock to be enough lubrication on his end. Indeed, strings of the mucous stuck to Lailann's fingers as the member curled about them. He straddled the merman, directing his hands to his hips, goosebumps rising where cool skin gripped his own hot flesh. "Now, go slow, alright? I'll try to 'andle the pace."

"Alright," Lailann agreed as Sniper scooted back, positioning himself over his cock. It reached up for him, tip poking between his cheeks and trying to figure out where to go. Sniper took hold of the slippery thing and guided it, pressing it into himself and sliding down around it, a wheezy, breathless groan escaping him as he slid down, slowly filling himself with Lailann's cock.

Sniper took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. It was a little thicker than he'd expected, but he certainly took larger on a semi-regular basis, so it was nothing he couldn't handle. What he hadn't been prepared for, however, was the eager squirming it set about the moment it was inside him. Caressing his insides, the member prodded where it could, curving and curling and twisting about, making him jerk and shudder, quaking atop the merman before he could even begin to roll his hips.

"Are you alright?" Lailann asked, curiously, unsure as to whether what he was doing to Sniper was good or bad at this point.

"Brilliant," the bushman rasped. He shifted, and began to move, rocking his hips back and forth, sliding Lailann in and out of himself, trembling as he curled with each egress, tugging him back on.

The merman shuddered, his head falling back, black curls splayed against the transom wall. He whined out a soft, low sound from his throat, thick and gurgling, as Sniper's heat surged through him. His insides clenched and clinged to him, tight and so, so hot. It drew dry breaths from the lungs he used mostly for speech, his chest sore from the sudden overuse of barely-used muscles. He searched around inside Sniper, relishing the rippling texture of his body and the sounds he wrenched from the assassin with each new twist and prod.

“AAGH!” Sniper doubled forward, crumpling in on himself atop the merman, his arms shaking. He whimpered, and Lailann had to strain to hear him. “Please, there, do that again, mate. Hit that spot again, don't stop.”

Lailann quirked an eyebrow and reached for the spot that had made the human atop him crumble, pressing in and relishing the choked gasp that rewarded him. Sniper's hips worked faster, rolling hard, driving him in with force, and with each stroke, he pressed into that spot, undulating against it and abusing it with verve. He was so warm, so tight, and the husky, desperate growls that rolled from the human's throat were intoxicating. Lailann liked this creature, very much.

Sniper's hands trailed over the merman's supine form, over smooth, cool skin and patches of scales, over fins and webs, taking in every detail. He was beautiful, cold inside of him and wriggling, abusing his prostate and sending sparks up his spine, wrenching moans from him and making his eyes cross. He wished he could get hard again so soon, wishing he could take advantage of the amazing sensations, but settled instead for melting into an overstimulated mess atop him. He watched Lailann's face, his eyes squinting tight, his mouth slightly agape, showing his sharp teeth. His brow was furrowed, and his jaw quivered.

The merman arched his back, scaly hips bucking upward as Sniper buried him deep inside, his hands gripping the human's warm hips. He let out a cry, his cock thrashing a moment before going still and filling Sniper, cold moisture blooming inside him and making him shiver. He fell back, flopping limp onto the platform, struggling to breathe.

Sniper laid down over Lailann, feeling his cock begin to slither out of him and recede into the merman's body. He pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and began to help urging him back into the water. With a splash, both men were floating again, Lailann's arms tightly clinging to Sniper's shoulders, hanging low so that his neck was submerged, gaping for breath in the water.

“Thanks, mate.” Sniper's voice was almost a moan as he shuddered with the aftershocks of sensation, nudging Lailann's forehead with his own. “If I'm ever out this way again, can I give you a yell?”

Lailann nuzzled up against Sniper's neck, his arms shifting to hold the bushman's torso. “No,” he mumbled, afterglow having taken firm hold. “I am not letting you leave.”

Sniper tried to peel himself out of the merman's arms, which tightened around him. He grabbed at the platform, his fingers slipping off as he found himself hauled quickly away by Lailann's grasp. “N-now, Lailann, mate, I can't--”

“I am keeping you, human,” the merman purred, pressing a kiss to his jaw as his tail began to propel them away from the boat, preparing to dive. The lanky bushman kicked and clawed at him, trying to escape his grasp with a yelp that faded into burbling as he was dragged beneath the waves.

“No ye don't!” Demoman hollered, diving into the water after them. He grabbed hold of Lailann, one arm curling around the merman's neck and holding his gills closed. The bomber's knee dug into his back, and his other arm grasped at his head, thumb finding one large, black eye and beginning to press in slowly, making him cry out in a flurry of bubbles.

Lailann released Sniper from his grasp, kicking Demoman off and swimming away, a stream of bubbles trailing him until he disappeared into the darkness.

Demoman took hold of Sniper and pulled him to the surface, coughing and sputtering in his arms. It was no small effort, but before long he'd dragged the rangy assassin onto the boat, tugging him into his arms as they lay on the deck, propped against the port-side seats. Warm, dark arms circled the furry, tanned torso of the taller mercenary, holding him close, possessively. He kissed gently at his forehead, checking him to make sure he was intact. “Sniper, ye alright?” he asked, voice full of more worry than he'd have wished to convey.

Sniper grumbled noncommittally, curling up in Demoman's arms, “Yeh, I'm fine. Thanks, mate.”

“Ye barmy bastard, I told ye water monsters are naught but bad news. Ye were almost dragged tae a watery grave.”

“Nah,” Sniper dismissed, pressing his nose to Demoman's chest and looking up at him with a dreamy, sated smile. “It's just 'is nature.”

“This! This is exactly what I told ye would happen, Sniper!” Demoman implored, exasperated beyond measure.

Sniper simply cuddled in closer, sighing contentedly in his friend's arms, pressing soft kisses to the warm skin of Demoman's chest. It disarmed the bomber immediately, deflating him and rendering him unable to do much more but hold him and commit that dreamy smile to memory. He found it nearly impossible to stay angry at the madman in his lap.

He was here. He was safe. He was in his arms. Right now, Demoman could ask little more than that.


End file.
